


Stronger Than Their Spite

by quicksilvermalec



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Clary is basically Simon from the books, Clary is having memories, F/F, Fix-It, Izzy is pretty much Jace as far as Clace is concerned, M/M, Make it better, Post-Episode: s03e22 All Good Things..., Sort Of, but Jace is still her brother, don't read too much into it, enjoy, more like continue-it, my UA doesn't hold a lot of water, or it won't make sense, total Clizzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilvermalec
Summary: “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”Izzy stared at her, confused and on-guard. “You can see me?” she asked, so similarly to how she had that very first day outside the Pandemonium club.“Yeah,” Clary said, like it was obvious. “Of course I can see you.”





	Stronger Than Their Spite

**Author's Note:**

> This is my idea of a fix-it for the series finale of Shadowhunters! I hope you enjoy.

Izzy leaned against the pole and watched the beautiful redhead talking to one of her visitors. She wanted nothing more than to go hold her, but she was glamour-runed, and Clary didn’t have the Sight anymore. And she’d been resisting the urge every night for weeks, so she could resist it today.

As the woman she’d been talking to walked away to look at another piece, however, Clary looked in Izzy’s direction. Izzy glanced over her shoulder to check, but there was nobody behind her. When she turned back, Clary was right in front of her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to spook you.”

Izzy stared at her, confused and on-guard. “You can see me?” she asked, so similarly to how she had that very first day outside the Pandemonium club.

“Yeah,” Clary said, like it was obvious. “Of course I can see you.”

Abruptly, Izzy turned and walked out the door only a few feet behind her. She couldn’t face this right now. As she strode toward the mouth of the alley, she heard a gentle voice raised in confusion and mild annoyance.

“Hey! Hey, I’m talking to you!” Izzy sighed and turned back to look at her. The redhead was scrutinizing her carefully, like a puzzle she was trying to solve.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” she asked.

Izzy felt like she was choking, her flesh constricting from the proximity, but she managed to get out a weak, “no, I don’t think so.”

“No, I do,” Clary insisted. “I definitely do. I…” She sucked her breath in as if she’d realized something super important. “You’re… you’re Izzy, right?”

Isabelle let out all her breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m Izzy.”

“Yeah?” Clary was smiling, and Izzy couldn’t breathe. “I’m Clary.”

 _I know_ , she wanted to say, but she didn’t. Instead she just chuckled, reveling in the momentary lack of awkward tension.

Then Clary reached out a curious, exploring hand, asking, “what are these tattoos on your neck?” She pulled back the collar of Izzy’s shirt to reveal her Voyance rune more clearly, and her hand stilled. She left it there.

Izzy stood there, smiling at her, for a moment, until Clary gasped quietly. She was jerked back into the moment.

“ _Shadowhunter_ ,” Clary breathed.

“What?” she whispered, caught completely off-guard.

“Shadowhunter. The word just came to me, looking at these… these Marks. I don’t know what it is or what it means, but I can connect it to you. You are… a Shadowhunter?”

Izzy nodded, so shocked that she’d been rendered incapable of speech. She gently placed a hand over Clary’s hand, resting on her collarbone. They just stood there for a long while, staring at each other, until Clary pulled her hand away and cleared her throat.

“I need to- to go. Back inside. Um… I hope I see you here again soon.”

Izzy nodded, still trying to swallow the lump in her throat, and turned away. “Bye, Clary,” she called over her shoulder. Clary just stood there, watching her almost reverently until she disappeared.

***

Things were coming back to her in bits and pieces, fits and starts. She had sketchbook after sketchbook from the last year filled with drawings of a faceless girl with long, dark hair and tattoos all over her body. She flipped through them, looking at her drawings, and when she found her favorite, she filled in the details of the face – the face of the girl she just met. Izzy.

Izzy… Isabelle. Her full first name was Isabelle. After a moment of concentration, Clary got a last name, too. _Lightwood_.

She wrote it in the corner of the page, then stared at it for a long time.

It was a beautiful, graceful, elegant name, much like Isabelle herself. She was so unlike anyone else Clary had ever met. She was so perfect. She was so… different. She was Isabelle Lightwood.

There were little things, innumerous little things that were just flowing back to her, but the bigger, more important things were harder to catch. They were always just out of reach, like trying to focus a photograph and you just can’t quite get there.

Until she grabbed the biggest, most important thing of all.

The location of a building that she’d spent hours upon hours every day in.

The New York Institute.

***

“Hello? Anyone?” She walked through the empty halls of the building, flashlight in one hand, waving the beam around at nothing.

It was silent and very dark. It was probably 11 o’clock by now, and Clary was in an unfamiliar building that could very easily be filled with people who wanted her dead. The thought made her shudder.

She took a few more cautious steps forward until a shuffling sound behind her made her jump. She whirled around.

Standing there, in the center of her flashlight beam, was the beautiful girl from the art gallery. Isabelle.

“Clary?” she asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here. Go home!”

“Izzy, what is this place? It’s in my memories, but I don’t know…” she trailed off as she realized there were more people standing behind Izzy, looking on.

A boy with dark brown hair and glasses, wearing a Panic! At the Disco tee. A tall Latino with a broad chest and dark hair with his arms crossed over his chest and an impassive expression on his face. A skinny Asian man with brightly colored hair and a look of awe. A boy with golden hair and equally golden eyes, gripping the Panic! boy’s arm tightly.

So many things came back to her at once.

So many that she blacked out.

***

_She will be okay. She’s recovering. Her brain is reconnecting old neural pathways that had been disconnected but not destroyed. Seeing your faces must have acted as a trigger, because several of them reconnected at once and it overloaded her mind, causing her to pass out._

“But she’s okay?”

 _Yes. And she will wake up very soon_.

***

When Clary woke up, all five of the people she’d seen earlier were gathered around her, looking down at her worriedly. On one side of her sat Izzy, who was comfortingly stroking the back of her hand with her thumb, and on the other side was the brunet from before, who was holding her other hand in both of his own. The other three men were standing at the end of her bed.

She forced herself into a sitting position, then swung her legs off the edge of the bed and stood, with none of that post-coma shakiness that is always described in books. It was exactly like getting out of bed in the morning.

The other five people followed her out into the hall and through the building into a room paneled in dark oak with a desk and a chair and a painting of the golden-haired boy.

Then, abruptly, she turned and threw herself at the dark-haired guy.

He placed his arms on her lower back awkwardly, hugging her back like he didn’t know what to do in this situation.

“Alec,” she whispered, looking up at him tearfully. “Your name is Alec. You’re Isabelle’s older brother. You’re Magnus’ boyf- no, husband. You’re Jace’s _parabatai_. You’re the guy who taught me that it’s okay to be whoever I am.”

Alec looked back at her with love in his eyes. “You’re Clary, my brother’s best friend. One of my best friends. I missed you.”

She pulled away from him and looked at Magnus. “I’ve known you since I was like, five. You’re flamboyant and amazing and a total genderfucker.”

He smirked at her. “That’s about it.”

She looked at the brunet. “You’re Simon. You’re my best friend. We grew up together. We entered fandoms together and had sleepovers together and did Captain America movie marathons together where we debated the merits of Stucky over Stony. I’ve known you since I was four.”

Simon nodded.

The blond who was standing next to him spoke up. “Do you remember me?”

Clary looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. “Not much, I don’t remember much about any of you, but… you’re Jace. You’re my brother.”

Izzy tapped her on the shoulder, and Clary turned to look at her. “You’re a heartbreaker, Isabelle Lightwood,” she murmured. “That much I remember.”


End file.
